A Very Baker Street Christmas
by EnduranceInHope
Summary: A series of Baker Street Christmas stories. Co-Authored with ModernDayBard and featuring her OC Jenny Meyers. Jenny is introduced in ModernDayBard's story New Neighbors. All of the Baker Street characters will be making an appearance.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! This Christmas, EnduranceinHope and I decided to do something special for Christmas this year: a collaborative story set in the world of BBC's** _ **Sherlock**_ **. The main OC featured is my OC, Jenny Meyers, which you can meet in my fic** _ **New Neighbors**_ **on my profile!**

 **For those of you who feel that's too much work, here's the basics: she's an American actress who moved to London; she rented 221C, hence meeting the 'Bakers Street Family'. She and Sherlock got off on the wrong foot, but now count each other friends. She's not a romantic interest or a replacement for John—just an every-person foil for Sherlock, who has to deal with her artistic tendencies.**

 **Anyhow, let the Christmas season begin! (We own neither show nor songs).**

Over his time as a consulting detective tracking down the dangerous criminal element in London, assisting Scotland Yard when they had the sense to ask, and generally poking his nose into places where it was most likely to be bitten off, Sherlock Holmes had gotten used to the varied and creative ways people would leave displeased messages or symbols at or on the door of 221 Bakers Street. So used to them, in fact, that they ceased not only to faze him, but often to excite him.

This one made him stop, however.

Not because he didn't recognize it or understand its meaning—his mother was fond enough of putting such… _things_ on every free window or door at this time of year, after all… _This time of year._

There it was. Deduction in place, and more than a little put out that Mrs. Hudson had chosen to decorate a public part of the apartment (rather than simply her own residence of 221 A) nearly a month in advance of the encroaching holiday, Sherlock made his way inside, intending to make one dry comment to his landlady before retreating upstairs.

In the end, he failed to act on such intention. As the door closed before him, he was met with the unexpected but somehow unsurprising sight of his landlady and downstairs neighbor decorating the inside hallways separating the three apartments, having evidently already turned their attention to 221A and 221C. Moreover, Jenny's iPod and speakers were positioned just inside the open doorway to 221A—far enough away not to be underfoot but close enough to hear—and cheerful holiday music was pipping out. None of this particularly took him aback—not even that the two women were singing along enthusiastically—knowing what he did of his neighbor and her enthusiasm for life in general. Why shouldn't it extend to the holiday season?

 _Hark how the bells—_

 _Sweet, silver bells—_

 _All seem to say,_

" _Throw cares away!_

For a moment, he considered interrupting them, if only not to waste the lien he'd already mentally composed, but he considered how that would play out—likely, Jenny had mentioned something off-hand to Mrs. Hudson, who'd leaped at the chance to decorate and not informed the younger tenant about his particular aversion to an overabundance of visible sentimentality. The young actress would be embarrassed if he made a point, probably try to apologize, and may even feel guilty when looking at her handiwork, which was, as he knew, generally not what one was supposed to feel at this time of year.

" _Christmas is here,_

 _Bringing good cheer,_

 _To young and old—_

 _Meek and the bold!_

With that in mind, then, he brushed by them without a word, nodding to both in passing and making his way upstairs. He wasn't _against_ Christmas by any stretch of the imagination—had hosted holiday gatherings (well, John had hosted, he just simply hadn't objected)—and really, who was he to trample on someone else's good spirits and traditions? If he could hold his tongue at his mother's house, he could hold it here. Hopefully.

"Ding-dong-ding-dong!"

That is their song,

With joyful ring,

All caroling.

Besides, if that _was_ cocoa and Christmas cookies he smelled in 221A, there may be a definite advantage to an early start to the Christmas season, after all.

 **So, yeah. Short little drabble to start off this song-fic series. Like New Neighbors, there won't be an overarching plot, just different scenes inspired by some of our favorite Christmas songs enjoy!**

 **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**

 **Song Used: Carol of the Bells**

 **Recommended Versions: Barlow Girl or Pentatonix, but really, I love them all.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi there, it's EnduranceInHope! I'm excited to be working with ModernDayBard on this set of stories. This one-shot happens directly after the previous one. Please enjoy!**

 ****Sherlock had indeed been right about the cookies that were being baked in 221A. Shortly after he had arrived home, Jenny had practically bounded up the stairs leading to 221B and knock incessantly till he answered. When he finally opened the door he found his neighbor leaning casually against the door frame.

"So, Mrs. Hudson and I have finished decorating and are about to enjoy some fresh Christmas cookies," she smiled brightly. "You're welcome to join us. . . if you do that sort of thing."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Jenny, whatever objection I have to sentiment, I will never say no to Mrs. Hudson's or your cooking. . . Even if it is Christmas themed." Jenny's smile got wider than Sherlock thought possible. And before he knew it, he was seated at Mrs. Hudson's tiny table with a cup of coco in front of him (homemade and not that dreadful packaged stuff) and a tray of colorful cookies in the center to share.

The banter was light between the group and Sherlock was regaling his audience with the story of how one of his latest clients had tried selling a priceless family heirloom behind her husband's back. But as he was reaching the best part, there was the sound of a gloved hand connecting with the metal door leading to the 221 apartments.

"Don't clients normally use the doorbell?" Jenny thoughtfully inquired.

"Indeed." Sherlock sounded rather bored, as he reached for another red sugar cookie. "Probably carolers sending their many happy returns." Needless to say, the detective immediately regretted mentioning "carolers." Both Jenny and Mrs. Hudson had gotten up immediately and went to the front door. Sherlock just sighed, set down his cookie, and followed his female companions.

 _What Child is this_ _  
_ _Who laid to rest_ _  
_ _On Mary's lap is sleeping?_ _  
_ _Whom Angels greet with anthems sweet,_ _  
_ _While shepherds watch are keeping?_

 _This, this is Christ the King,_ _  
_ _Whom shepherds guard and Angels sing_ _  
_ _Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,_ _  
_ _The Babe, the Son of Mary._

The Baker Street residents listened as one of the older men in the group began the song, before the rest of group joined in. The richly woven harmonies were incredibly beautiful and did the old song justice. Even Sherlock had to admit that the group had a considerable amount of talent . . . even if the tenor section was a tad off. Sherlock picked up on Jenny's voice joining in with the group as they reached their final verse.

 _Oh, raise, raise a song on high,_ _  
_ _His mother sings her lullaby._ _  
_ _Joy, oh joy for Christ is born,_ _  
_ _The Babe, the Son of Mary._

 _This, this is Christ the King,_ _  
_ _Whom shepherds guard and Angels sing_ _  
_ _Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,_ _  
_ _The Babe, the Son of Mary._

As the festive group ended the carol, they motioned for their doorway audience to follow. It was then that Sherlock saw the haphazardly thrown on coats, hats, and scarves on some of the group members. Jenny didn't need much prodding. She dashed to 221C and came out with her gray pea coat, green stocking hat, and black gloves before the detective knew what was happening.

"Are you coming Mrs. Hudson?" The landlady smiled gently,

"Oh no, child. My hip simply won't allow for it." Jenny nodded with understanding before turning to her other neighbor. Sherlock's eyes widened upon realizing her intention.

"No, absolutely not."

"Oh, come on Sherlock. You never know, it could be fun."

"I don't do 'fun'." Jenny looked to their landlady.

"Oh Sherlock, go with her. Besides it'll be dark when she's walking home and you want Jenny to be safe don't you?"

 _Did she really just play the guilt card on me?_ The image of Jenny being tied to her kidnapper's chair came unbidden to Sherlock's mind and he shuddered just a bit.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Jenny clearly hadn't meant for her appeal to go so far. "It's okay Sherlock. I'll come back before it get's dark, and I have ways to defend myself this time." She patted her pocket where she always kept a thing of mace. But Sherlock already pulled his long coat and scarf from the bench in the hall, where he had thrown them earlier.

"Let's go."

Later that evening the two were walking back to 221 Baker Street in companionable silence. Jenny suspected that Sherlock had actually enjoyed himself, but was not sure until they were going to their respective apartments. As Jenny fiddled with her keys, she heard the detective humming a tune as he marched up the steps to flat B.

 _This, this is Christ the King,_ _  
_ _Whom shepherds guard and Angels sing_ _  
_ _Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,_ _  
_ _The Babe, the Son of Mary._

 **I hope that you all enjoyed! Please leave a review :) – Endurance**

 **Song: What Child Is This?**

 **Preferred Version: Peter Hollens**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! This time around, we're focusing on some other members of the Bakers Street Family. I don't think there's anything more that needs be said, so let us simply jump right in!**

 **Anyhow, let the Christmas season continue! (We own neither show nor songs).**

"Are you sure about this?"

Mary Watson did her best to suppress an amused smile—two blocks. That was as far as they'd gotten form 221 Bakers Street before John was having (or at least, voicing) second thoughts. "Having an evening to ourselves for the first time in months? Yes." She couldn't resist teasing him a little, and from the unamused half-glare she got in response, John knew it, too.

"Michael. With Sherlock. For a whole evening. Without Mrs. Hudson." They were statements, but his earl question firmly lodged behind each one.

It _was_ an interesting thought, but they'd been left with little choice after their regular sitter fell through. Besides… "Jenny will be there, though."

John glanced and the blonde beside him, wavering but still unconvinced. "She doesn't have younger siblings, or kids, or much experience with children…"

"That's not strictly true—she did an entire run of _Matilda_ with a large ensemble of child actors. And she learns quickly." Truth be told, it was the latter more than the former that had earned Mary's confidence. Besides, it was just for one evening…

Parenting is certainly many things, and it teaches or improves many valuable skills—multitasking, for one. For instance, John and Mary were not only using the evening to themselves to enjoy a rare date night, but also to accomplish most of their Christmas shopping without prying eyes or a toddler underfoot.

At the top of the list (and, at the moment, easiest to please), was Michael himself. As they pursued the store, John noticed his wife's smile fading into the pensive expression he'd dubbed her 'worry face'—one he hadn't seen often before Michael was born.

Backtracking, he put his hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, just the usual—lingering self-doubt surrounding whether I actually know what I'm doing." Mary was trying to sound light-hearted, making a joke, but he knew about her fears that she was an incapable or insufficient parent—he shared them, too. So did every parent, he supposed: no one was really prepared for the responsibility of another human being depending on them for everything.

"We're doing alright so far, and it's not like we have to do this on our own—Mrs. Hudson alone has demanded at least one chance to babysit a month, my parents and Harry are already spoiling him rotten, and even Jenny and Sherlock are willing to help when we need it. Sherlock, Mary."

The blonde woman couldn't full suppress a smile at the turnaround from her husband worrying about entrusting their two-year-old to his old flat mate for the evening to using it as a reassuring example. "He's not going to be afraid of much growing up, is he?"

"Probably not."

… _I pray you'll be our eyes,_

 _And watch us where we go;_

 _And help us to be wise,_

 _In time when we don't know…_

After shopping for their family members, the Watsons turned their attention to their list of friends they still had to shop for. The list divided by which was more familiar with an individual's tastes and preferences, they made their way through the store—but never did end up splitting up, as had been the implied plan.

John was nearly at the end of his list when Mary spoke up in a light but curious voice. "Is Jenny seeing anybody?"

"What? I don't know—how would I know?" John stammered, this sort of conversation _not_ falling in his comfort zone.

Mary shrugged, still scanning her list. "If she was, Sherlock would've noticed, might've pointed out like you know he would. I figured there was a possibility you'd have overheard if that happened."

"No, I haven't." Mary hummed in a way that said she had been a passingly curious and, for her, the conversation could be over, but she'd gotten John thinking. "Did you think she was?"

"Not really; I just thought she'd been here long enough to find someone, or strike up something with someone in her company. Come to think of it, she didn't mention anything like that when we were talking Christmas plans last week—just that her parents were coming. Shame, though; you'd think a nice girl like that…"

John shook his head, partly amused, and partly in trepidation. "Mary, you're not about to try to play matchmaker, are you?"

"No, I wouldn't do anything like _that_ ," Mary assured him, then, added under her breath: "unless she asked."

… _We ask that life be kind,_

 _And watch us from above._

 _We hope each soul will find,_

 _Another soul to love…_

Of course, shopping trip aside, this was _also_ a date night, and eventually the Watsons found themselves seated at a table in a semi-crowded restaurant, perusing menus.

Of course, John wasn't really concentrating on his. He'd glanced up, intending to ask Mary what she was in the mood for that night, and saw that she was focused intently on reading it. Something about the picture reminded him of his first proposal attempt, or even of their first date, and he found himself caught up in a barrage of memories.

They were good ones, mostly. Or rather, they were good ones, now. When he'd first met Mary, he'd still been trying to cope with life after Sherlock's supposed death—a little lost and drifting, he could now honestly admit. And even since then, things hadn't always been exactly ideal for the couple: their wedding day was nearly a murder, and then the tense, silent, fuming months when Mary's deception was revealed. But ultimately, John had come then to the realization that was hitting him now—as it did from time to time—Mary had helped him through some of his darkest moments and there was no one else he'd rather spend the rest of his life with.

When Mary glanced up, she found John seemingly still scanning the menu, but the little smile on his face told her that he was seeing something other than ten types of salad and seven ways of preparing seafood.

 _Need to find a place—_

 _Guide us with your grace;_

 _Give us faith so we'll be safe…_

By the time the Watsons made it back to 221B to pick up Michael, the toddler was completely passed out. As Mary picked the sleeping child up, John found himself scanning the apartment, but was unable to determine if the chaos around him was caused by his son, or was just the normal disorder that Sherlock lived in.

Mary glanced over at Jenny, who'd stationed herself near enough to the spare bedroom to hear if the child woke while looking at something on her computer (notes from a rehearsal, perhaps?). "How was he?"

Jenny laughed with the rueful smile that indicates the tacit agreement between parent and babysitter—if details aren't given, don't press; it all turned out fine in the end—before darting an amused glance at Sherlock, who sat at his desk, expression unreadable in the dim lighting.

"Oh, he was a little angel."

 **So, yeah. Not really Christmas-y, per se, except in setting and activity, and even the song's a bit of a stretch, but it's one of my favorites, and I wanted a chapter where John and Mary got to have some time together. Ad for those of you wondering what Michael got up to with Jenn and Sherlock, fear not and stay tuned!**

 **As always, if you saw something you liked, or somethin you think I can fix/improve on for next time, feel free to leave a review and let me know!**

 **Song: The Prayer**

 **Recommended Version: Peter Hollens ft. Evynne Hollens**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! It's EnduranceInHope with a new chapter. This one shot is a companion piece to the previous chapter that ModernDayBard wrote. I hope you all enjoy the dynamic between Jenny, Sherlock, and Michael. It was a fun piece to write.**

 **If you are liking this story please leave us a review to let us know!**

 **As always, we don't own Sherlock or the songs. Jenny is ModernDayBard's OC.**

Jenny was dashing around her apartment trying to quickly change into a set of more comfortable clothes than then the ones she wore to rehearsal that day. She had completely forgotten that she was supposed to help Sherlock watch Michael, Mary and John's son, until she had run into the family at the door of 221 Baker Street. She hoped that she hid her surprise well enough. Mary and John deserved to have a night out… without having to worry about their son.

Now in a pair of leggings and a tunic shirt, Jenny grabbed her computer and hurried out the door and up the stairs to 221 B. She had just reached the door and was about to knock when she heard a crash and the sharp cries of a distressed child. The young actress burst in to see a stack of overturned books on the floor, Michael in tears, and Sherlock standing in between looking confused as to whether he should comfort the child or straighten the books. Jenny took that decision out of his hands.

"Sherlock!" The sharp note in her voice redirected his attention to her. "Take care of the books." He nodded as Jenny strode over to the two-year-old on the ground.

"Michael, honey, what's wrong?" The boy let out a string of sounds that Jenny deciphered to mean he wanted his mum and dad. She picked the boy up, settling him on her hip and allowed him to plant his face into her neck.

"I've never seen him get like this." Jenny turned to Sherlock as he spoke up. He finished stacking the books on a high shelf. "He's usually more calm when I watch him."

"Did Mary leave a bag for him?" Sherlock nodded and pointed to where it sat, in John's old chair. Jenny rummaged through it pulling out a container of apple sauce. "Can you get me a spoon from the kitchen? A CLEAN one." The detective rolled his eyes, but hastened to oblige his friend.

While Jenny was helping Michael eat his snack, Sherlock pulled out a few of the toys that Mary had thought to included in the bag. Tonight's selection included a red, wooden car, a small train set, and a teddy bear. Michael got excited upon seeing the toys.

"Well, Michael which one would you like to play with?" Sherlock asked his small charge.

"TRAIN!" came the enthusiastic response. Jenny laughed and allowed the boy to scamper over to the detective. "Play trains, Uncle Sherlock!" Though shocked for a moment, Sherlock eventually responded by situating himself on the floor and Michael allowed himself to be entertained by his trains and his "uncle."

The hours passed swiftly. Jenny was allowed to join in on the fun and was even able to get out of Michael what he wanted for Christmas (Sherlock practically beamed when the answer was "chemstry set"). But the hour was late and soon Jenny uttered the words that all children dread.

"Michael it's time to get ready for bed." The reaction was instantaneous.

"NO!" Michael was up faster than Sherlock or Jenny could move. The toddler scurried around the apartment, knocking over whatever he could reach on his way to hide under the kitchen table. The two adults stood, baffled. 

"Well, what now?"

"I don't know Sherlock. Does Mary have this much trouble?"

"Of course not, but then again Mary is his mum."

"True." Jenny thought hard for a moment.

"I have an idea. Pull out his night clothes and I'll get him out." Sherlock looked at his neighbor quizzically before going to oblige.

"Michael?" 

"Don't wanna go to bed!" Jenny rolled her eyes.

"That's okay honey. You don't have to; I just need you to come out from the table."

"NO!" The young woman sighed.

"Michael, do you want me to sing you a Christmas song? The toddler nodded his head. "Okay, well first I need you to come out from the table and let Uncle Sherlock put your pajamas on you." Michael hesitated before complying. Sherlock looked grateful and quickly got Michael changed. After which, Michael crawled into Jenny's lap.

"Now, which song do you want to hear?"

"Drummer Boy!" Michael had recently seen the old Claymation film and was obsessed. Jenny nodded and was about to begin singing when Michael interrupted. "Uncle Sherlock, play please." Sherlock chuckled and pulled his violin from the end table, obviously having prepared it before hand. He nodded to Jenny as he struck up the first stain of notes for the old carol.

 _Come they told me_

 _pa rum pum pum pum_

 _A new born King to see,_

 _pa rum pum pum pum_

 _Our finest gifts we bring_

 _pa rum pum pum pum_

 _To lay before the King_

 _pa rum pum pum pum_

 _rum pum pum pum_

 _rum pum pum pum_

 _So to honor Him_

 _pa rum pum pum pum,_

 _when we come._

 _Little Baby_

 _pa rum pum pum pum_

 _I am a poor boy too,_

 _pa rum pum pum pum_

 _I have no gift to bring_

 _pa rum pum pum pum_

 _That's fit to give our King_

 _pa rum pum pum pum_

 _rum pum pum pum_

 _rum pum pum pum_

 _Shall I play for you!_

 _pa rum pum pum_

 _on my drum._

Michael's eyes where beginning to close, the combined sound of Sherlock's violin and Jenny's voice calming him considerably.

 _Mary nodded_

 _pa rum pum pum pum_

 _The ox and lamb kept time_

 _pa rum pum pum pum_

 _I played my drum for Him_

 _pa rum pum pum_

 _I played my best for Him_

 _pa rum pum pum pum_

 _rum pum pum pum_

 _rum pum pum pum_

 _Then He smiled at me_

 _pa rum pum pum pum_

 _me and my drum._

By the time the final verse ended, Michael was sound asleep. Jenny scooped him up and placed him on the bed in the spare bedroom. She sighed and she turned to pick up what Michael and tipped over.

"Jenny, don't worry about that. He didn't break anything." Ordinarily, she would've argued, but the episode with Michael exhausted her.

"Thank you for helping with the song." Jenny turned to her friend. "It really made a difference." Sherlock shrugged.

"You had the idea. Quite an impressive one actually." Jenny smiled.

"Why thank you." She popped open her computer to study some of her lines for the next day's rehearsal. 

"What do we tell Mary and John?" She looked up.

"We tell them that he was a little angel." Sherlock nodded and the two neighbors settled into a companionable silence.

 **Okay, so not super Christmassy. But there will be plenty of that in coming chapters. Hope you all enjoyed! – Endurance**

 **Song: Little Drummer Boy**

 **Recommended Version: Pentatonix**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! This time around, we're featuring mostly oc's. Not to worry, though, our favorite cannon characters will be more prominently featured for the rest of the time—this is a necessary set-up (and hopefully also enjoyable).**

 **Anyhow, let the Christmas season continue! (We own neither show nor songs).**

 _Script? Check. Notebook? Check. Pencil_ _with_ _an eraser? Check. Bag? Check. Coat, gloves, scarf, hat? Check._

Bundled against the December chill, Jenny made her way out of the apartment, bound for the theater, and rehearsal for her company's production of Marlowe's _Faustus_ , due to open that January. She left early to give herself time to enjoy the walk, with all the Christmas decorations now proliferated through the city.

This was always her favorite time of year—ever since she'd been a little girl—and even though she didn't have as much time with her family as she had in precious years, there was still an excitement that brought out the kid in her, even more than her job normally did.

 _No more lives torn apart—_

 _That wars would never start,_

 _And time would heal all hearts;_

"Hey, Reynolds, you're organizing the Christmas fundraiser this year, right?" Jess called over to the actor laying Sloth at the end of that evening rehearsal, causing Jenny to look up in some surprise.

Jenny paused in swapping out her character shoes for her boots. "The what now?"

Jess glanced down at her young friend. "That's right—your first December here. I _was_ wondering why you were prepping to leave. Stick around, we're having a planning meeting in a few minutes."

"Planning a fundraiser? For the company?" Jenny asked as she finally got her character shoes off. Placing them back in her bag, she opted not to wrestle into her boots at the moment, remaining barefoot as she sat on the floor.

"No," answered Josh Reynolds, walking over to the two girls. "Every December, we organize and run a charity fundraiser as a company. Usually some kind of performance and food element. Last year was dinner and a concert, but it didn't really pay off as much, so we're heading back to the drawing board. And yes, Jess, I'm technically in charge, but believe me: I'm open to suggestions."

 _As children we believed,_

 _The grandest sight to see,_

 _Was something lovely,_

 _Wrapped beneath our tree._

 _Well, heaven surely knows,_

 _That packages and bows,_

 _Can never heal a hurting human soul._

"What about a bake auction?" Jenny suggested as the meeting progressed. Her suggestion got a few blank stares, so she elaborated: "I think the concert idea is good, and that works with the flat charge for admission, but if we also baked cookies, pies, and such, we could have an auction at the end and raise a little more. Plus, people are willing to bid more for charity."

"And those of us who can't bake?" asked Will, one of the (many) 'class clowns' in the company and the actor portraying Wagner, though the broad wink he gave the young American took some of the contrariness out of his words.

Jenny smirked back, though internally, she didn't feel as confident: she was still painfully aware of her place as the 'new girl' and foreigner. "Well, than your contribution to the concert had better be worth admission price."

Her retort earned laughs, and Josh playfully shoved Will, adding, "Or you better buy something—we're always willing to take _your_ money." When things settled, though, the project head managed to get everyone back into business mode. "I think it's a good plan. I'm going to get a sign-up sheet together—well, two. One for baked goods, one for concert pieces. They'll be here tomorrow, and you'll have a week to sign up. Sound good to everyone?"

 _Everyone would have a friend;_

 _And right would always win;_

 _And love would never end—_

 _This is my grown-up Christmas list!_

It was even colder as she made her way back to 221C, but Jenny didn't really notice. Now that it was fully dark, the holiday lights were on, and she felt herself practically bouncing. She loved this time of year, and she _really_ loved that her theater company would be giving back this holiday season.

Of course, she had to think through her contributions…there was her mom's pecan pie recipe, of course, or her simple, 3-ingredient pumpkin cookies. Maybe both, if she could swing it in her grocery budget that month. And, she _did_ want to get something ready for the concert, but what?

She was still pondering that question as she turned onto her street, and glanced up, noticing the silhouette of her neighbor in the lit window of 221B, and though she couldn't hear him, she could see he was playing his violin.

 _No, I couldn't…could I?_

 **So, yeah. OC heavy, only one of which (besides Jenny) has even been mentioned before (Jess was mentioned in 'New Neighbors'), so it was a bit risky, but sets up an event that pays off in a few more chapters, so I decided to go for it—I hope you like it!**

 **As always, if you saw something you liked, or somethin you think I can fix/improve on for next time, feel free to leave a review and let me know!**

 **Song: Grown Up Christmas List**

 **Recommended Version: Peter Hollens or Evynne Hollens**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello everyone! Endurance here, and I hope your holiday season is going well. This next chapter is the beginning of the Christmas fundraiser. I hope you all enjoy and please take a minute to review**

 **As always we own none of the songs or the show and Jenny is Modern's OC.**

The day of the Jenny's Christmas fundraiser had arrived and Sherlock found himself in the concert hall that was decked with silver and gold decorations. More accurately, he found himself behind the stage, tuning his violin. Jenny had, miraculously, talked him into being the accompaniment for her concert piece… the opening act.

 _The sounds of footsteps coming up to 221B awoke Sherlock. He must have been more tired than he thought, as he hadn't intended to fall asleep. He had just managed to straighten up when the knock came on the door._

" _Sherlock?" Jenny's voice floated past the wood.  
_

" _Yes. Come in." His neighbor took in his seated positon on the couch, before electing to sit in the chair next to him._

" _Sherlock, I need to ask a favor from you."_

" _Which would be?" Sherlock asked. He felt more anxious than he sounded._

" _My company is doing a fundraiser in two weeks- a concert and a bake auction- they picked me for an opening act. Well, I have a song, but it requires either a piano or violin accompaniment." She smirked a bit as Sherlock's eyes widened._

" _Um… Why can't you do a recording?" Jenny rolled her eyes.  
_

" _It's not as good as the real thing." Anticipating his next retort, she continued, "I suppose I could ask one of the company members, but they couldn't learn the song in two weeks, much less play it as well as you." He straightened his shoulders just a bit, templed his fingers under his chin, considering her proposal._

" _Very well. I'd be delighted to accompany you Jenny."_

Looking back, it hadn't been hard to convince him. Though it had been a while since he had preformed for others, he felt a twinge of adrenaline at the opportunity.

He glanced past the curtain, while adjusting his jacket sleeve. He spotted Mrs. Hudson, John and his family, and even Mycroft. The footsteps behind him brought his attention to his neighbor.

"You ready to go?" she asked.

"Indeed. And yourself?"

She flashed him a brilliant smile, adjusting her sliver knee-length dress. "I am."

Soon enough, they were ushered out to the stage. It only took a moment to get set up, the mics had already been adjusted. Jenny nodded to her neighbor, who took up his position and let out the first notes to the song she had chosen. Her sweet voice joined in soon after.

 _In December_

 _We give our gifts, wishing well to our world._

 _Peace on earth to everyone._

 _A time to be joyful when all is calm and all is bright._

 _But why does it change with the seasons?_

 _And why can't we just hold on?_

 _To silent nights, holy nights,_

 _And angels singing lullabies_

 _And heaven and nature singing good will to all,_

 _To all._

Sherlock was lost in the music. The song really was beautiful and echoed the one sentiment that all people had at one moment or another. The desire to hold onto good will and joy. Sherlock was grateful for Jenny's demonstration of this attribute. As her voice continued to carry out to the audience, time flew and soon they were at the climax of the song.

 _O come let us adore Him_

 _O come let us adore Him_

 _O come let us adore Him_

 _O night Divine._

 _And those silent nights, holy nights_

 _And angels singing lullabies_

 _And heaven and nature singing good will to all,_

 _To all._

The last note left his instrument and an astounding applause came from the audience. Sherlock caught Jenny's eye as he smiled. Together they stepped forward and took a bow. They certainly had given a good opening to a night that would spread good will to many.

 **Song: December Song**

 **Preferred Version: Peter Hollens, its one of his originals.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! More on the fundraiser this time, but more of an overview. This ends this little arc, but with a few more stories before we call it done for good.**

 **Anyhow, let the Christmas season continue! (We own neither show nor songs).**

 _Give this Christmas away—_

 _If there's love in your heart,_

 _Don't let it stay there!_

 _Give this Christmas away:_

 _And your life will be changed,_

 _By the gift you receive,_

 _When you give this Christmas away._

The concert was nearly over, but the 'bake auction' (because, as adults, they didn't have 'bake sales') was still to come. So far, it was going extremely well, with a sold-out crowd, though whether they'd been brought in by the advertised performances or by the chance to aid the local children's hospital (the charity of choice that year) was difficult to determine.

Her part of the concert over, Jenny dashed through backstage into the conference room where Jess, Josh, and Will were setting up for the auction.

 _Time to see what I can do to help._

 _It's feeding the hungry;_

 _It's serving the poor;_

 _It's telling the orphan,_

" _You're not forgotten anymore;"_

 _It's doing what love does,_

 _Even when no one's watching you._

Jenny was so grateful to be a part of a company that put on charity events like this—it reminded her of holidays growing up, where her family would make meals for firefighters, police, doctors, and nurses who had to work through the holidays apart from their families, or of times spent visiting nursing homes and children's hospitals. She still wanted to do something along those lines, but this was a good start.

 _It's good to raise and give money, but giving yourself is always best._

 _What if I told you:_

" _You have the power,_

 _To give someone hope,_

 _Far beyond their wildest dreams,"?_

 _What if December looked different this year?_

 _What if we all just—_

The last-minute prep—all the dashing around to be sure the dishes were in the right order, with appropriate description's on Josh's card (he being the auctioneer), and all allergen information correctly and prominently displayed—had just been finished when the conference room doors opened and the crowd filtered their way in from the theater.

Those in the company tasked with 'table duty' spilt form the throng and made their way to their assigned positions, and the rest, dubbed the 'hospitality crew' helped their guests get settled and explained how the auction was going to work.

Jenny surveyed the controlled chaos proudly and with the slightest flutter of nerves remaining in her stomach. Everything seemed to be going well so far, and she was proud to see how well the company had put together the even in so short a time frame and with the next play looming large on the horizon.

 _We're always willing to make time for the things that mean the most to us._

 _Give this Christmas away—_

 _If there's love in your heart,_

 _Don't let it stay there!_

 _Give this Christmas away:_

 _And your life will be changed,_

 _By the gift you receive,_

 _When you give this Christmas away._

The evening was a success, and even full of familiar faces—Jenny had noticed Mrs. Hudson, John, Mary, and even little Michael in the crowd, and had been somewhere between honored and mortified when her landlady had bid on (and won) one of the pecan pies she had submitted to the auction.

The only thing that made the night better, was imagining the looks on the kids' faces as they opened the presents that would be bought with some of the proceeds.

 _No better way to spend the holidays._

 _Give this Christmas away…_

 _You have the power,_

 _Just give it away!_

 **So, yeah. That's the company's charity event. A few more chapters, and then Christmas is here!**

 **As always, if you saw something you liked, or somethin you think I can fix/improve on for next time, feel free to leave a review and let me know!**

 **Song: Give This Christmas Away**

 **Recommended Version: Matthew West and Amy Grant**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello All! We've wrapped up the Christmas fundraiser and Jenny is about to get an early Christmas gift**

 **We own neither the show or the songs. Jenny is Modern's OC.**

 _Have yourself a merry little Christmas  
Let your heart be light  
From now on  
our troubles will be out of sight  
Have yourself a merry little Christmas  
Make the Yule-tide gay  
From now on  
our troubles will be miles away_

The slow, contemplative notes of the carol swept through 221 B, which was looking more and more festive by the day. If anyone asked Sherlock why, he'd insist that it was because Jenny needed to let out all the excited energy that she had pent up. But deep down, in that ticking mechanical part where his heart supposedly resided, he enjoyed having all the fuss being made over his apartment. Jenny was trying to make the best out of her first Christmas in London. He imagined that it could be somewhat trying, even if her parents were coming to spend the holiday with her.

"What do you think Sherlock?" Jenny asked, motioning to the small tree. He looked up from the popcorn garland that he was stringing.

"It looks good." The tree contained an assortment of red, green, and silver ornaments (he had drawn the line at tinsel). He tied off the garland. "I think we can get this hung up." The Sinatra Christmas station continued to play in the background as the neighbors worked together to position the popcorn piece over the fireplace. 

"John and Mary said they would be by when?"

"A little after six. They'll have some supplies to make food for the party." The annual Baker Street party was in a few days. Jenny, though excited for the party, was just hoping the good weather would hold.

 _Here were are as in olden days  
happy golden days of yore  
Faithful friends who are dear to us  
gather near to us once more_

" _ **ding dong"**_ Jenny looked over to Sherlock quizzically. "Who could that be?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. But desperately tried to hide his smirk.

"I don't know Jenny. Why don't you go find out?" It was the young woman's turn to roll her eyes as she marched down the steps to the entrance.

"Can I help…" Jenny's mouth dropped open in shock. There, standing in front of her, were her parents. The couple had shared smiles on their faces.

"Surprise, honey!" Her mom exclaimed. "Can we come in or are you just going to keep staring at us like we're behind glass?" Jenny snapped out of her shock and leapt to hug her parents.

"Who is it Jenny?" The detective's baritone voice cut in. Upon seeing the group embracing in the door way, he chuckled. "You know it'd be more comfortable if you brought them in before doing that, right?"

"Oh for heaven's sake Sherlock!" The couple stepped into the hall before turning to the consulting detective.

"Sherlock Holmes?" Jenny's mother asked. Sherlock nodded before extending his hand to the brunette haired woman.

"Yes, a pleasure to meet . . . umph." Sherlock found himself enveloped in a very tight embrace. The older woman stood a little below his shoulder, and had managed to reach her arms around him.

"You're fortunate she didn't give you a kiss," Jenny's father remarked from the side. He extended his hand to the younger man as Jenny's mother untangled herself from him. "We owe you a lot for looking out for Jenny while she's been here." Jenny thought she saw a tinge of a blush on Sherlock's cheeks.

"Yes, well . . . would you like help with your luggage?"

The four made their way down the hall to Jenny's apartment, each with a suitcase in hand. Jenny's mother explained that they had taken an earlier flight in order to surprise her. Jenny was beaming from ear to ear.

" _ **bring bring, bring bring"**_ Jenny's head shot up as she set her mom's suitcase in the bedroom. "Who could be trying to skype me right now?" She dashed to her couch where her tablet sat. Her smile got even wider before answering.

"Hi Alina!" Sherlock glanced briefly over Jenny's shoulder to see the tan, feminine face framed by straight black hair. "How are you?"

"Doing well!" The bright, yet accented voice responded. "Are you at home?" Jenny quirked her eyebrows.

"Yes. But why…" It was then that Jenny noticed that Alina was sitting in a car. 

"Well, come and see." Alina moved her camera to revel that she was standing outside of 221 Baker Street. Jenny bounded out of her apartment before anyone could respond. She threw open the door to revel the shorter, young woman on the other side. Alina smiled as Jenny grabbed her in a hug, dragging her friend inside all the while.

"You're really here! All the way from Alaska! What are you doing here?" Her friend chuckled shaking her head as they walked to the 221 C. 

"I'm here to see you of course. Hi Mr. Paul, hi Miss. Bea," Alina greeted the couple in the room before turning to the detective. "You must be Sherlock."

"Yes. And you must be Jenny's native friend from Alaska. You are a teacher and you're not just here for a visit. You brought your dry cleaning bag, probably containing the only dress suit you own. No, you're here for an interview as well." His deductions earned him blank stares and a punch from Jenny. Alina just smirked.

"I was warned about you. You're right, I do have an interview. But I didn't want to say anything right away. If I get the position, I'll be in England for at least a year." Jenny by this point was hooked.

"You mean you'd be living here?" Alina nodded and Jenny could only pray that it was the case.

The conversations continued to be light hearted. Sherlock excused himself to allow the small group to get caught up. Jenny for her part was immensely glad to have family and friends surrounding her for the holiday and felt so blessed for the surprise of their early and unexpected arrival. As they continued to unpack, the word of the old carol floated through the rooms of 221 C-

 _Through the years we all will be together  
If the Fates allow  
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough  
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now. _

**A little longer than normal, but I hope you all enjoyed. Please leave a review!**

 **Song: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas**

 **Preferred Version: Frank Sinatra**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! This chapter is my final contribution to this story, then Endurance gets to wrap it all up. I've had a blast writing, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it just as much. Merry Christmas, everybody!**

 **Anyhow, let the Christmas season continue! (We own neither show nor songs).**

"Mother, don't you dare!"

There was a reason Jenny had given her mom the chair that made the distinctive squeak when the occupant attempted to get up—she knew her mother too well.

"But, Jenny—"

"Mom," Jenny interrupted, "please, relax. It's my turn to play the host, for once you can relax and just be the guest. You don't have to help; we got this. Most of the food's been prepped in advance and we've been working on the décor for weeks. You don't have to do anything other than sit there, sip your cocoa, and relax."

Mrs. Meyers looked up at her daughter in over-exaggerated pleading. "And if I have to use the restroom?"

Jenny pause, flushing a little at her mistake. "Down the hall, to your left."

Alina stifled a laugh behind her grin. Jenny's father didn't even try to hold his back.

 _God rest ye merry, gentlemen,_

 _Let nothing you dismay;_

 _Remember Christ, our Savior,_

 _Was born on Christmas day,_

 _To save us all from Satan's power,_

 _When we were gone astray._

Soon, the guests started arriving for the annual Bakers Street party. Some, jenny knew and introduced to her parents and Alina—mainly, John, Mary, and little Michael. Shortly after the Watsons came (early), Jenny had to take the last batch of cookies out of the oven. When she came back, she surmised everyone was getting along, because her father was talking with John and her mother was holding Michael while Mary took a seat.

Soon, though, members of the slightly extended part of Sherlock and John's circle began arriving that Jenny had only briefly, if ever, met: Molly and Lestrade, and a few others she couldn't even put a name to. A few of her introverted tendencies threatened to make themselves known, but it was playing hostess that saved her—as quiet as she could sometimes be in overcrowded situations or in crowds where she didn't know most of the people, she loved giving hospitality: making food, making guests comfortable, and generally making people happy. Fortunately, it was this side of her that was winning out.

 _From God our Heavenly Father,_

 _A blessed Angel came;_

 _And unto certain Shepherds_

 _Brought tidings of the same:_

 _How that in Bethlehem was born,_

 _The Son of God by Name._

As the evening wound on, Sherlock observed the contained chaos from the corner he'd drifted into. He was doing his best not to make too many observations—these were his friends after all (well, most of them were) and he would prefer to keep it that way—and trying to minimize his impact on preceding, remembering a couple similar evening ending in more-or-less disaster because he'd been in one foul temper or another. Best not to ruin this party, especially not for the American and her family…

 _Father, mid to late fifties, military background, but that's few years in the past now, he's let his hair grow out. Loves small children and they seem to like him, too, given Michael's reaction. Definitely the extrovert of the family and very comfortable in social situations. Mother, medical background, but hasn't worked in a while—probably a stay-at-home mother. Quiet person, but gentle and friendly. Jenny takes after her in more than just appearance, but with a bit of her father's humor thrown in as well._

 _Friend…Alina. Teacher. A little blunter, perhaps a tad more cynical than Jenny, but not too hardened. Reader and writer both, mostly used to small town life. Geography alone dictates these two met at college._

Before he could get any further, he was aware of his downstairs neighbor coming up to him, smiling, but a question in her eyes. "You're being awfully quiet."

"For once?" he offered, anticipating some good natured-teasing.

She didn't take the offered bait. "I know you'd rather be joking around with the rest of us, so come on. Trust me: my folks won't mind and Alina can give as she gets. You don't have to exile yourself at your own party."

He muttered something about is position being his own choice, but he followed Jenny nevertheless. Perhaps a little more mingling wouldn't ruin the mood.

 _Now to the Lord sing praises,_

 _All you within this place;_

 _And with true love and brotherhood,_

 _Each other now embrace._

 _This holy tide of Christmas,_

 _Doth bring redeeming grace!_

After most guests had left, the necessary clean-up commenced, and this time Jenny had no luck keeping her mother form jumping in. Alina also jumped in to help, and Paul Meyers was in his element, entertaining two-year-old Michael Watson while his parents enjoyed a few more moments of rest.

Jenny was clearly exhausted by the evening, but she couldn't stop smiling at the memory of the evening or the thought of the rest of the holidays with her friends and family around her—new and old.

 _O tidings of comfort and joy—_

 _Comfort and joy!_

 _O tidings of comfort and joy!_

 **So, yeah. I've definitely enjoyed this project, and I hope you all have loved the results. Merry Christmas!**

 **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, feel free to leave a review and let me know!**

 **Song: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen**

 **Recommended Version: 4Him**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello all! This is the last chapter to our set of shorts. This was a very challenging chapter to write, and one of our longest ones, but I hope you all enjoy. To all of you experiencing difficulty in this Christmas season, know that you are being thought of. I pray you find hope and comfort in Jesus, who is Emmanuel.**

 **As always, we don't own the stories or songs.**

 _O come, O come, Emmanuel,_

 _and ransom captive Israel,_

 _that mourns in lonely exile here_

 _until the Son of God appear._

 _Rejoice! Rejoice!_

 _Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel._

Jenny's voice lighted throughout the apartment complex as Sherlock walked through the main door into the hall. He had just come off a quick case (a four at best) and was hoping he could convince Mrs. Hudson to spare some shortbread. Sherlock also wondered why she was practicing this song so often over the past few days. He had heard so many different versions that it was becoming rather annoying. His face must of shown it, because Alina's reserved chuckle came from the bench against the far wall.

"Bugging you too, huh?" The teacher's casual use of the English language bothered Sherlock. But the mischievous look in her eye let him know she was doing it on purpose.

"Slightly, yes. Why is she practicing it so much?" Alina shrugged. 

"Beats me. It's not the first time she's performed it." Sherlock was shocked by this. 

"Performed?"

"Oh… that's right, it's been a few days since we've seen you. Jenny was asked to lead her church in their opening hymn for their Christmas Eve service. Obviously, you know what their pick was." A silence followed as they listened to Jenny's continued practice.

"Is anyone else going to the service besides you and her parents?" Alina hesitated slightly.

"Mrs. Hudson, John, Mary, and Michael for sure. Any others invited either declined or were unsure." An awkward slience reigned between them for a moment. "She… would like to invite you."

"Then why hasn't she? A note . . . something?"

"She wouldn't just write you a note for something like this." Alina sounded almost angry. "Sherlock, she knows you don't believe in God … or any god for that matter. She wasn't sure how you'd react. You and her have become close and she doesn't not wish to damage that." Sherlock cringed and her improper grammar, but felt slightly. . . sad. Well, he supposed that was the right emotion.

"Will she ask me?"

"I believe so," his companion stated optimistically.

 _O come, thou Wisdom from on high,_

 _who orderest all things mightily;_

 _to us the path of knowledge show,_

 _and teach us in her ways to go._

Eventually Jenny did approach Sherlock about the matter.

"The service would be short Sherlock, maybe an hour… an hour and a half at most. But if you don't want to come, you don't half to. And if you say no today I won't ask you again." She paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.

Sherlock was very quiet. Normally, he would have given a sharp retort. But Jenny was his friend, and she was only be courteous towards him. He shook his head before approaching the young actress. 

"Jenny," he waited for her to look at him, "I would be happy to go to Christmas Eve service with you." As much as his decision shocked him, her quick but sincere hug shocked him even more.

The next evening, Sherlock found himself seated with his friends and Jenny's family listening as her voice projected the ancient hymn across the small church. He thought he saw Alina swiping at her eyes as she sang the third verse-

 _O come, thou Dayspring, come and cheer_

 _our spirits by thine advent here;_

 _disperse the gloomy clouds of night,_

 _and death's dark shadows put to flight._

Sherlock did not pretend to suspend his disbelief for his friends. But even he had to admit that the hope of their faith was genuine. It showed on Jenny's face, even as she stared at her mother, who was suffering from a debilitating disease. It was evident in Jenny's parents, who worshiped even though tough times were ahead. They had a peace that many, Sherlock knew, wouldn't have.

 _O come, Desire of nations, bind_

 _in one the hearts of all mankind;_

 _bid thou our sad divisions cease,_

 _and be thyself our King of Peace._

After this last verse, the tempo changed instead of going to the normal refrain. The detective smiled. His friend had managed to surprise him yet again. And by staring at his companions, he knew that he wasn't the only one with that reaction. Thankfully, the powerpoint matched so the congregation was able to sing along. To Jenny and her family's shock, a deep baritone voice joined in-

 _You breathed your love into a silent night_

 _And with one voice, all heaven and nature sing!_

 _Come into my silence and bring me peace_

 _Come into my darkness and be my light_

 _Emmanuel, You are with me!_

 _Emmanuel, You are with me!_

 _Emmanuel, Emmanuel… Emmanuel._

 **And there it is. We hope that you all have a Merry Christmas and a safe and blessed holiday season. With love, ModernDayBard and EnduranceInHope**

 **Songs: O Come, O Come Emmanuel and Emmanuel, You are With Me**

 **Preferred Versions: Peter Hollens and Jeremy Camp for the first. Mark Smeby for the second.**


End file.
